


Survivor

by SidheKatSoup



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Beta Wanted, F/M, Feels, I can't really call it a relationship because reasons, Monsters in love, Obsession, Revolution, Violence, bad people with feelings, monsters with feelings, mutual respect, or what passes for love with monsters, prepare for a feels train
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2017-11-07
Packaged: 2018-07-14 10:26:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7167368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SidheKatSoup/pseuds/SidheKatSoup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Since Bane's revolution everything has changed, except the need to survive.  And a survivor she most certainly is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> There may be a couple of you who recognize this from FF.net. I've decided to move everything over here, and since I made a promise long ago to finish this, I intend to keep that promise. My writing style has changed a good bit over the years, so I would ruin what flow the older version had were I to finish it now, so I've decided to rewrite the whole thing. I'm very excited about all of this. Please let me know what you think! ^.^

Winter descended quickly on Gotham, a frigid blanket to mask the horrid deeds of it's citizens in a shroud of white. Bodies scuttled about, darting from shadow to shadow in a bid for anonymity, for safety, for freedom.

Revolution had come.

Bane had brought the once "great" city to it's knees in a matter of weeks. Criminals ruled with iron fists and a blood lust that rivaled their great overlord. The rich were hunted and slaughtered like cattle, the privileged paraded in front of an insane judge and his court. Rights and privileges were stripped away to leave people bare and bloody.

Alexis sat silently on her tiny couch, oiling the hinges on her switchblade, her .22 pistol in pieces in front of her, each cleaned and ready to be reassembled. She worked quiet but efficient for several long minutes, piecing things together and making sure it all moved smoothly. She'd been caught unprepared before, fingers unconsciously brushed the collar of her shirt, and that was not something she was willing to allow again.

She pulled a kevlar vest over her chest, sheathed and holstered her weapons, and made her way to her front door. She'd been running low on supplies for a couple days, though she'd managed to make what she had stretch. There was a small market around the corner, with canned goods and the like which she regularly pilfered for only what she needed an no more. She knew there were others like her, not many, but enough she didn't want to doom them in this dystopian city.

She paused as she passed the cracked mirror hanging in her front hall. The frown that pinched between her brows did nothing to harden up her soft features. Eyes too wide and pale, cheeks too rounded and smooth, and a mouth far too soft for her own liking. Still, such gentle features had their merits at times. She was constantly under estimated by opponents, which suited her just fine.

She tucked a wayward strand of block hair behind her ear, smoothed a finger over the scar at her lip, then whisked out the door, a duffle bag slung low over her shoulder.

Her shoulders hunched, her spine bowed, and she tucked her head to look as small and nondescript as possible. Another nameless, faceless wretch in Gotham.

She slipped into the market quietly and began stuffing things into her bag. She ticked items off in her head; canned goods, first aid supplies, a new water filter, a big pack of strike anywhere matches. She smiled vaguely, reminded of camping trips when she was younger, when the sound of boots crunching glass alerted her to company. She zipped her bag quickly and stashed it under a counter before backing away and pressing herself against a wall.

Silently, she prayed it wasn't his men, was just another scavenger clinging to the vestibules of hope and life. She'd always prided herself on her luck, whether good or ill she had it in abundance, and it hadn't failed her yet.

A group of mercenaries rounded the corner and spotted her almost instantly. She widened her eyes trying to look frightened and small, and counted them quickly. Five big, muscle bound idiots who only knew how to follow orders. Her stomach twisted and she fought back the urge to sneer. Joy.

"Well, well, well," One sneered, obviously the leader with his eyebrow cocked and a swagger to his step. "What have we here? A little mouse, all alone."

"Please," She whispered, voice cracking, their smiles only grew. "Don't hurt me." She inched her body along the wall, placing a rack between herself and them. "I didn't do anything."

The leader barked out a laugh at her and she flinched, glancing quickly to the side as one thug approached the hiding spot of her goods. "Looks to me like you were _stealing_ ," He bared his teeth in a smile. "In Bane's territory."

"No," She chirped, knocking into a display and scattering cards. "No, I- I wasn't stealing. Please, I'm just hungry." The men laughed at her display as she took them all in. Only the leader wore a vest like hers, but no where near as nice. Probably cobbled together as a last thought. Their weapons weren't maintained well. So not mercenaries, common criminals. Her night just became much easier.

"Oh, sweetheart, I got something I could feed ya." He sneered at her, approaching slowly, thinking her cornered. His meaty fingers closed around her wrist and she responded immediately, her other hand lashed out, caught him in the throat with a sickening crunch, paralyzing his vocal cords. She dropped low and spun, sweeping his legs from under him while he was distracted, and his head hit the floor hard.

By now his men were moving, converging on both sides and she leaped forward, shoving the rack at the two dumb enough not to move out of the way. Canned goods and bottles scattered, and she wove through the chaos she created with the grace of a dancer. A man came at her side, but his shoes slipped on the cards on the floor and she ducked his wild punch to come up and clap her hands over both of his ears, deafening him. He yowled in pain and threw another wild punch, which she blocked quickly and counted with her elbow to his jaw. He hit the floor in a heap.

Alexis dipped quickly, catching a heavy can in her fingers which she lobbed at the temple of the next closest unfortunate soul. He cursed loudly, nearly hitting his knees, and she had to commend him for his fortitude. Still, when she brought her knee up into his nose, breaking it and slamming the bone into his cranium, his fortitude meant nothing.

Three down, two to go. Today was productive.

The smile as she grabbed the discarded rack of cards off the floor and swung around to gain momentum was not lost on her last two attackers. Chests full of thrown metal they grunted in unison only to have it land atop the rack and force even more air from their lungs.

A swift kick to the face of one rendered him unconscious as she danced out of reach of the other. She had turned for only a moment, but a shot rang out and sent her reeling to the side, clutching her shoulder. Her body registered the pain before her brain did, and the surge of adrenaline made her hands shake even as she clutched the wound.

He was still struggling to his feet as she stalked over to him and pressed her boot to his throat. Her eyes hardened to sharp points of jade as she stepped down hard.

She scurried for her bag and left quickly, before the last gurgle sounded. She ducked out of the building, her limbs shaking as fire began to course through her, and adrenaline seeped from her body. She hitched the bag higher on her uninjured shoulder and tugged the collar of her jacket around her neck before gripping her wound again.

The sound of more boots hit her ears and her head snapped up quickly, and for the first time in her life, she cursed her luck.

Approaching her slowly was none other than the Revolutionary himself.

 _Bane_.

Son of an absolute bitch.

She ducked her head again and immediately shifted her route towards the other side of the road. She didn't need much help to appear weak and vulnerable, what with blood coursing down her arm, shaking limbs, and jerky movements. She didn't make it far before a hand closed around her wounded arm in a steel grip. Her world wavered briefly before her as her knees gave out. She expected to hit the ground, but that grip held firm, keeping her from meeting concrete.

A strange voice filled her head, and for a moment she didn't understand anyone was speaking to her. “You are wounded.” He repeated patiently. She groaned lightly but managed to refrain from sarcasm. Barely.

“Yes.” She replied as his thumb traced over the wound and she hissed at him. She was shaking hard now, from pain and shock, though adrenaline was building in her veins again. She was going to be a wreck tonight.

She tested his grip upon her arm, and a fighter she may have been, but she was weak and wounded, and there was no way she could take on _his_ people. They were trained and ready for combat at the drop of a hat. She was suddenly very tired.

There was no way she could outright attack him, not so heavily outnumbered and wounded. Her only real choice was escape, she just had to outrun and outsmart them. She was so tired, but she glanced at his face, at the heavy mask that protected nearly everything. She couldn't break his nose, couldn't go for his eyes. In fact, his whole body seemed heavily armored, from the thick coat he wore, the heavy kevlar vest, down to the well worn but well maintained boots on his feet. She-

“What are you?” He asked, breaking her concentration for a moment. She blinked owlishly up at him, eyes deceptively soft and round. “Police? Paramilitary? I saw my men enter that store, and only you leave.” His tone was clinical, assessing her threat level to his operation. She didn't possess one, she just wanted to make it out alive. Who was in charge mattered little to her.

“No.” Perhaps if she stuck to one word answers, he'd grow bored. He only narrowed his eyes at her and she frowned in return.

“Do not play games with me girl, I am not in the mood.” He warned and she felt her self preservation wane a bit.

“I highly doubt you are ever in the mood.” She sighed letting her body relax while she could. She'd need her strength to get away.

A few muffles snickers met her words and he turned to give his men a quelling look. A moment, that was all she needed. She planted her foot against his knee and shoved herself up and forward. She tucked herself in so their shoulders met and she rolled down his back, sprinting off the moment her feet touched the ground.

Another shot sounded behind her and she dove into an alleyway before she heard a muffled shout of, “Hold your fire!” She didn't stop long enough to puzzle through that particular phenomenon.

She was leaving an easy trail to follow, she knew this, so she doubled back several times, climbed over what she could, and took to high ground as often as possible.

Finally, after minutes that felt like hours, she hunkered down in a small alleyway and tugged her bag closer to her. She hadn't grabbed much by way of medical supplies, but it was enough for now.

She peeled the bloody cloth away from her skin and stared at the wound, poking gently and swearing not so gently. It was just a graze, for which she was infinitely grateful. She had no stitches, but needle and thread at home, which she could utilize. She pulled a small bottle of vodka out of her bag and bit down into a wadded piece of cloth before disinfecting her wound. She howled as her body shook, her head falling back against the wall in agony. It passed soon enough and she dew in several deep breaths through her nose before she felt steadied again.

“Perhaps a parent in the military.” That same voice said near her and she spun, a knife appearing in her hand as she crouched, bloodied, in front of him.

“Bane.” She greeted mildly and his eyes crinkled at the corners, as if he were smiling. She found the notion disturbingly odd. “Fancy meeting you here.” She ignored his question outright, it was none of his business after all.

“Indeed, such a large city, and you, so small a person.” He crouched nearer to her, his hands hooked in the vest at his chest, his fingers curled loosely. He'd been born fighting, she imagined. The way he moved, that even at rest his natural state was ready for combat. Her eyes flicked over his face, reading his eyes, and though the rest of him might have been a mystery, those stormy grey eyes almost pulled her in. She blinked quickly and glared sharply.

“Usually it makes it easy to disappear.” She reached into her bag and popped two painkillers, swallowing them down without a drink. “Why?” She demanded, and could tell it caught him off guard. He gave orders, he didn't take them.

“I've come to see this little survivor.” He answered plainly. She hummed softly, never letting her gaze leave his. This was all surprisingly civil, and far too strange for her right now. She wasn't supposed to catch attention, much less Bane's attention, that was a death sentence unto itself. She ripped off the bottom part of her shirt and tied it tightly around her arm, stemming the flow of blood.

“You will be disappointed. I am unremarkable.” She said idly, yanking the knot tight with her teeth. She glanced up to be nearly nose to nose with him and stifled a shriek. A gun pressed between his eyes before she fully registered that she was moving. A hard light entered her gaze and his crinkled once more around the edges.

“I doubt that.” He said idly, almost leaning against her pistol.

“I am not here for your entertainment.” She snarled at him, slowly pushing herself to her feet. She wasn't going to shoot him, hated the mess it made, but he didn't need to know that, and she needed to leave before her arm started shaking more.

“Good luck on your conquests.” She said before she was wheeling around and running again.

She was going to sleep for a week after this.

 

 


	2. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Her shoulder throbbed and her fingers tingled as she gathered up everything again and slipped out a window, not even sparing a glance behind her.  
> There was always another way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Revised!

 

A week was apparently going to have to wait. Two days into her self imposed house arrest her wound had started to worsen. Red flamed over her shoulder, and her skin burned to the touch, a sure sign of infection setting in. Vodka wasn't going to cut it long term, not if she didn't want to end up with blood poisoning and an arm she couldn't use anymore. She needed supplies. Saline, alcohol, peroxide, ointment and proper sutures. With a low groan she made up her mind.

Pushing herself up gingerly she took a quick shower and washed what she could out of the wound again.

“To whatever it is that guides my luck; be nice to me today.” She said softly as she braided her hair and pinned it to her head. She was a bit too vain to ever cut it off, even if she could admit to the inconvenience of long hair. Still, she made do, adapt or die, as her father always said.

She wrapped her arm tightly to keep anything from weeping while she moved about the city. The less blood in the water, the better. A ghost she had been so far, a ghost she would remain as long as possible. She hoped _he_ would not catch her scent again. That was attention she couldn't afford to have right now, or really ever.

She tugged on her body armor once more, allocated weapons to their individual places, and tossed an overly large coat around her shoulders. One last check, one last run down of items and she slipped from her door and ducked down a rather small alleyway, head down, eyes set on her destination.

It didn't take her long to traverse the city, and it wasn't hard to avoid _his_ men. She'd had their patterns marked for weeks now, noting their comings and goings, what time to find them where. The common thugs were of little concern to her, petty thieves and murderers the lot of them. His trained men were another matter entirely, but she did well at avoiding them. Guerrilla warfare, that was their specialty, and hers was being where they weren't.

Some places were left operating, to “keep hope alive”, and she was grateful the hospital was one of them. She couldn't stay, didn't want herself admitted so she'd be trapped in one place for too long, so she had to be in and out quick.

She stood across the street from the hospital for a long minute, scanning the surrounding areas for threats. Generally the mercenaries and inmates left the nurses and physicians alone, simply because it was unwise to threaten the ones that could very well save your life. Alexis certainly had respect for the caretakers of the world, a profession she certainly couldn't handle. She lacked the compassion.

Trotting towards the building she slid inside to the bustle of life saving energy. She closed her eyes for a moment to block out the most offensive feelings; death, anger, grief. She could practically feel them crawling along her skin, slipping down her spine, making the fine hairs along her neck prickle. She shook herself and continued on her way, glancing at signs and heading towards the newer section of the hospital. Since the Joker's attack only a few years prior, the building was still under repairs, still reeling from the devastation.

It was a perfect place to get what she needed without being noticed. She slipped down the deserted hallways, quiet as a shadow, peering into rooms and storage closets along her way. She pressed her face to a small window and smiled to herself. An empty supply room, now she just needed the code to get in. Perfect.

Or almost perfect. Less so when she heard the distinct thump of flesh hitting flesh. She ignored it while she tried to hunt for a way to open the door. She only needed basic supplies, sterile sutures, saline, gauze. It would have been easier had the drug store not been ransacked within the first few days of the occupation. The mercenaries were merciless when it came to screwing over the general populace.

A low groan echoed through the corridors now and Alexis sighed, letting her forehead fall against the door. She pushed away with a huff and moved down the hallway, ears sharp to pick up anything. She followed the low hiss of pain around a corner to see a nurse pinned against the wall, a mercenary's grip tight around his throat. No wonder there wasn't much noise, he could hardly breathe. She saw the veins bulging along his face, the red tinge that traveled down his neck.

She pressed against the wall for a moment, weighing her options silently. With a muffled curse she rounded the corner and drew up short with a soft sound of fright. She widened her eyes and clutched her hands to her chest. There were only three men, and only one looked like a trained killer. That was a lucky break for her. Had there been more she would have left the poor man to his fate at the hands of these sadists.

As it were, they all stopped to look at her while she shook in the middle of the hall.

“I- I...I'm sorry. I...I didn't see anything.” She began to stutter, but saw a look of recognition pass across the mercenary's face. Damn. He'd been with Bane, of course. They were never far from their master unless given orders, and she'd been too distracted to notice anyone other than Bane at the time.

“Well. If it isn't the little Ghost,” He smiled at her, and though it wasn't unkind, she knew better than to be lulled into any kind of false sense of security, she fell into a defensive stance quickly. This was not a game she wanted to play, especially not while injured. “Bane's been on the lookout for you for a while. Couldn't tell you why though. Seen tougher bitches than you in my life.”

“I'm afraid I have need of his services.” Alexis said ignoring his words completely. The more he spoke the more she could gather of his character, and exactly how difficult an opponent he'd be. _Please, let him be the chatty, hot-headed kind_.

“You'll have to wait your turn, little one. As you can see, we were here first.” He dropped the man finally and she raised an eyebrow at him. He was big, arrogant, and probably had the skill to back it up. Probably, better safe than sorry, and she had no intention of underestimating him. He was built like a scrapper; Lean, defined muscles peeked from the collar of his shirt and the sleeves, which meant he was probably fast as well.

“My business is rather _urgent_.” She insisted, raking her gaze over his face. Her hand snapped to the sheath at her side, the knife flashing before it embedded in the shoulder of the leader. She exploded into action, leaping forward as she ripped another knife from the sheath at her back, slashing at legs and sides as she wove through the thugs. Already her shoulder was screaming in pain, but she focused in on her task. The sooner her enemies were down, the sooner she could get fixed up for good.

She rolled under a wild swing, coming up behind the man where her hands gripped the back of his shirt and she hauled him over her shoulder. He landed with a thud her elbow landing against his throat with a crunch as she rolled with him, coming up behind the group.

“Oh, this little ghost hits pretty hard.” The mercenary cackled as he pulled the knife from his shoulder and his last man stepped away from her.

“One down.” She breathed. She'd have to be more careful now that the element of surprise was gone. She let her gaze flicker between the two men, assessing, calmly scrutinizing her next point of attack, when the leader dropped like a sack of bricks. Alexis held onto her surprise, but only barely.

The nurse stood behind him, needle in hand, contents pumped into the mercenary, his arms shaking furiously.

Impressive.

She turned to the last man and nodded back down the hallway. He shot away quickly, heavy boots thudding loudly until they faded entirely. Finally she straightened and pressed her hand to her wound, turning towards the nurse.

“That was very brave.” There was a vague smile on her lips as she spoke, she could already feel more blood slugging from her wound.

“I guess, it was just a ketamine cocktail and- oh my god you're bleeding!” He yelped and rushed to her side, immediately ushering her towards the new emergency room. She resisted, pulling away until she stood a few feet away. He came to a stop and she regarded him quietly.

“No doctors, huh?” He asked, shifting back towards her.

“No.” She shook her head, shifted her weight. “I can't be found.” That was only a mildly criminal thing to say.

He nodded slowly. “Alright. I heard those guys talking like they knew you. Come with me, I'll see what I can do, and maybe you can tell me the story.” He took her arm gently and steered her towards another empty hallway, into an equally empty room. “This was an old OR. But since it's being remodeled we should be safe for a bit. That alright?”

She nodded, grateful for his discretion. Still, the less she actually said, the better it would be for everyone. “Thank you.”

“You saved my life. It's the least I can do, especially in times like these. Can you remove your shirt comfortably? I'd like to get a good look at your shoulder.” She nodded again as he moved around the room, still stocked, and pulled out what he needed. He washed his hands and arms and pulled gloves on before, finally turning to her. He stopped dead, staring at her arm.

It was a mess, she knew that. Bloody, red, infected, after only two days, she should have done better. She knew better, she- “Well, this isn't the worst I've seen.”

“Excuse me?” Her head snapped around towards him, strands of hair falling into her eyes.

“Yeah. I mean, it's a gunshot, and those are never pretty, but this isn't that bad. You've taken good care of it, good job.” He continued and rolled a table up next to her, his tools all laid out in a neat little row. “I'm not the best with sutures, I'm an ICU nurse mostly. It might scar, but it'll definitely heal faster, okay?” At her nod he smiled and got to work, injecting her shoulder with lidocaine before anything else. More and more she appreciated this man.

_Don't get attached_. She reminded herself sharply.

“It's impressive you could tell what kind of wound it is just by looking.” she muttered, hissing softly under her breath as he began working.

“MICU. We get everything. Literally everything. This isn't the first gunshot wound I've seen.” He explained. She only nodded once again and fell silent, to let him concentrate.

He was quiet as well for a long minute, just working as she sat there, half out of her shirt, staring at the wall and picking patterns out among the speckles. It was not wholly comfortable, but she was relaxed as she could be, satisfied she was safe for the moment. It was a good feeling.

“Did Bane shoot you?” His question once again startled her slightly, and she glanced down at him.

“No.” She said slowly, elongating the word. “No. It was one of his men, but not him. I did see him, afterwards.” Why was she speaking? She needed to stop, the less he knew, the safer he was. “He let me go. I don't know why.” Traitorous mouth!

“That's some kinda luck.” He said, sparing a moment to return her look.

“Yes. It really is.”

It didn't take terribly long for him to finish his impromptu surgery. Longer than she liked, but she didn't make the rules, and she wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. Whatever that had meant, she still hadn't figured it out. He wrapped her arm carefully to keep her sutures safe.

“The anesthetic will wear off soon. It'll hurt like a bitch.”

“I have Tylenol.” She said immediately, shrugging her shirt back on. The look he gave her almost made her laugh. Oh she really had to leave before she became attached.

“Yeah. No. Not going to cut it.” He eyed her a moment, arms folded over his chest. Finally, he said, “Can I bribe you to stay here a minute so I can get you supplies?”

She put on her best grumpy face, one she'd often been told made her look like a melancholy puppy, before she gave up and sighed. “Yes, fine. You have ten minutes.” He darted off in an instant, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She rolled her shoulder experimentally. She could feel the tightness in it already. It was going to be a pain to try and take care of, especially now. She frowned and propped her hands on her hips, pacing tight circles around the small room. Ten minutes, a lifetime she'd offered. So much could happen, those men could come back, she had let one go after all. Bane could track her. She bared her teeth and hung her head.

“Such a mistake.” She hissed and tangled her fingers in her hair. Still, it only took him half his allotted time before he was back, a small orange bottle in hand.

“Here. Take it as needed. I can't get you a refill, so be careful. It is a narcotic, so just...please be careful.” He took her hand gently and placed the bottle in her palm. She stared at him a moment, before drawing away, nodding quickly, and darting for the door. She fled the hospital, as if the fires of hell were nipping at her heels. She nearly ran all the way back to her home, nearly forgetting her ritual.

She stopped a few blocks from her home and pressed herself against the wall. Drawing a deep breath she circled her apartment building slowly, moving closer each time, eyes open for threats, anything outside the norm. It wasn't time for the usual rounds, so she wasn't terribly worried about running into anyone unsavory. She finally crept close enough to slip down the alley beside her building and pulled down the fire escape, well oiled so it would make less sound, at least.

She slipped through the window to her little apartment and froze immediately. The hair on the back of her neck prickled and she immediately dropped to a crouch, hand going to the knife in her boot. The lights were off, as she'd left them, as she crept through the house, peering around corners and pressing doors open flat. She circled around to her living room and stopped when she saw a small box sitting on her coffee table. It was white and entirely nondescript save for a bright red cross emblazoned on the front of it.

A first aid kit.

She sneered and flew to her bedroom, ripping out bags from hiding places, already half packed with necessities. She crammed whatever else she needed, including a necklace from her mother, and her father's old ring. She thumbed the items gently before stuffing them into a pocket and slinging the bags over her shoulder. She took one last look at the box, glared at it really, her mind churning over possibilities.

Slowly she stepped over to it, fingers ghosting over the edges. She dropped her bag quickly and sat, staring at the box a bit longer. Her fingers danced over the plastic, seeking little traps or triggers to set something off. Finding nothing she began to open it slowly, peeking under the lid before raising it too high.

Everything she'd dropped was in there, from alcohol to butterfly sutures. The laugh that bubbled up in her throat wasn't entirely voluntary and she shook her head. She pulled items out of the box, checked them over for anything untoward, and stuffed them into her bags. She couldn't afford any tracking devices on her person, and if that mercenary was to be believed, she was indeed being hunted.

Her shoulder throbbed and her fingers tingled as she gathered up everything again and slipped out a window, not even sparing a glance behind her.

There was always another way.

 

 


	3. The Capture

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hellfire and damnation.” She snatched the little orange bottle from her bag and popped a pill quickly. It was awful. Within an hour she was useless, absolutely boneless, and couldn't care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for panic and Rx drug use. Also I'll never post warnings for violence, if such things squick you out, my dear why are you still here? And I admire your tenacity.
> 
> Edited the ending 1/12/18

_Rule number one; don't expect someone to come along and save you. You must save yourself._

_Rule number two; always be on the move. A moving target is harder to hit than a stationary one._

_Rule three; if you cannot be on the move, be well fortified and well supplied. Fortifications only go so far when you're starving to death_.

Alexis had memorized so many things in her life. So many rules and details chugged through her brain constantly. She knew it probably wasn't normal, not really, but she'd never known any differently in her life. Her father would drill her on her lessons, on hand-to-hand combat, on being aware of her surroundings.

“ _You are strong, my little one, but never as strong as a man. So you must be smarter, more ruthless than any opponent you come against_.”

Every word had been a lesson, a nugget of wisdom of a life hard fought for freedom. When she was little, she never knew what enemy her father had been training her to fight. It had always just been some invisible thing lording over her head like a monster under the bed. She never feared monsters though, not when people were so much worse.

She knew that, because she could see it in her parent's eyes sometimes. Dark shadows that moved behind their gazes when a memory would strike, leaving them a little more open. She had asked, once, and then never again.

“ _Some things you don't unbury, sweetheart_.” Her mother had said, curling around her child like a barrier. “ _Some things you just let go_.” Alexis hadn't questioned it then, she certainly couldn't question it now.

So, rule number two was what she followed now. She never stopped in one place for more than a couple of hours. She would find another temporary home (her fourth so far since the occupation), and plan from there. For now she was scouting areas and finding the best defensible homes. It was hard, in a city like Gotham, what with houses stacked on top of one another, but not impossible.

Eventually, well after dark, she found a lovely town home stacked all neatly in a row with others. Normally this wasn't ideal, but the street was not wholly unoccupied. Other lights flickered in windows, shadows moved around behind doors, people cowered. She would blend in, become just another faceless citizen caught up in the flow.

She waited in the alley until the sun began to lighten, thugs moving back towards the base. Criminals were out at night, mercenaries during the afternoon to evening. Morning was relatively safe, all things considered, less people with weapons at least.

Once she was relatively sure she was not being watched she slunk towards the house, around the side, and stared up at a window. No scaling that. Not with her shoulder already throbbing and demanding nearly all of her attention. She paced a bit, looking for any opening that wasn't glaringly obvious to the entire city. There was a small window, far too small for her to shimmy through and she cursed her (quickly souring) luck.

“Fine.” She huffed and returned towards the mouth of the alley. She slipped in the front door quickly, the lock already having been jimmied long ago. She took stock of her surroundings quickly, knife drawn as barred the door and crept through the house. It was dangerous, barring herself in, but then it was dangerous if someone followed her.

Catch 22 it was.

She cleared the house though, pleased that it was mostly intact. The walls were whole, and the ceiling had no leaks, so she counted all of that as a win. Entering the kitchen she flicked the switch with a small prayer, and the light blinked on, unsure at first, then steadily brighter until it hummed. She smiled.

“Small things.” With that she set about rearranging things in her new “home”. Heavy furniture was moved in front of windows, the back door left as it was, save for a trip-wire stretched along the bottom. She set traps everywhere, snares and little trip lines, small things that were easy to hide.

Fortification. She was relatively well stocked, and she'd take in the lay of the land in the morning. For now she needed to lay low, let herself rest and heal. Just a graze, she smirked again, always the lucky sort.

She didn't unpack much, only a few bare essentials; toiletries, clean underwear.

“ _You never know when a doctor is doing to see your panties. May as well keep them clean._ ” She shook her head sharply. So many memories so close to one another. She missed her parents, what child didn't when they were gone? But Alexis had many years alone at this point, many more to come to terms with death.

Finally, finally she sat back on a battered couch, stretched her legs out in front of her, and relaxed for the first time in what felt like days. She let muscles unkink and relax, trying to rub feeling back into cold fingers and toes. It was easy to ignore things while on the move, being still gave her time to catalog aches and hurts, compartmentalize what she could, and study what she couldn't. She was tired, hungry, and her shoulder was screaming bloody murder at her. Still, the couch felt good and she didn't want to move for a minute.

 _Your first priority is you_.

Alexis groaned and pushed herself to standing once again. Hunger would only get worse, exhaustion would set in quicker and then she'd be in a world of more hurt. She made a quick dinner, some canned thing, soup surprise warmed on the stove top.

One need taken care of. She peeled off layers of clothes as she headed up the stairs. The master bedroom had a fireplace in it and she planned on availing herself of it as quickly as possible. It was easy to tear apart furniture to feed the flame, and strike-anywhere matches were always in her bail bag. She stripped sheets, blankets and pillows off the bed and made herself a little nest in the closet before setting another little trap next to the only door in. She had a clear shot at the window from her nest and she nodded slowly. Briefly she contemplated making a body double of leftover clothing and a sheet, but with her body already pushing it's limits she decided against it.

Need two, pain management. She pulled out her little med kit and set to work re-wrapping her wound and checking it over. Her stitches were orderly, a neat little line tracking through her skin, not the prettiest, nor the smallest, but she didn't care about scars. Once wrapped again she moved to the bathroom, intent on availing herself of hot water. If the electricity was on, that meant a lovely bath, something she hadn't had since before the occupation.

Such luxuries were a rare commodity, something she hardly indulged in even when given the chance, thinking it took too much time, was too frivolous a waste.

“Being shot is plenty reason to indulge.” She murmured to herself, checking the water before sinking into it, clothes thrown in front of the fire to warm.

“Fu-” She hissed as the heat crawled into her skin, buried down to her bones and stripped the rest of her aches away so quickly it felt like something breaking. She kept her shoulder dry, but lounged as long as she could before her fingers pruned and she had to escape the heat.

The throbbing in her shoulder just wouldn't stop though. She felt it with each heartbeat, a slow, sluggish thing that trailed down her arm, up her neck, and back to center again. She grit her teeth and hissed again.

“Hellfire and damnation.” She snatched the little orange bottle from her bag and popped a pill quickly. It was awful. Within an hour she was useless, absolutely boneless, and couldn't care less. She knew she should, knew she should check her traps again, remain aware of her surroundings. But her head was so heavy, her limbs were useless, and her nest was the comfiest thing she'd ever had the pleasure of being in.

Fading in and out of consciousness left her disoriented. Shapes and shadows moved in and out of her vision and she couldn't tell what was real and what wasn't. At one point she woke with a hulking shadow stretched over her, a strange hissing filtering through her cotton addled senses.

“Hello little one.” A voice spoke softly to her, far away and wrapped in violence.

“Hello big shadow.” This made her giggle and she rolled, more flopped, to her side trying to see better.

“Your injury is bothering you?” It was a question, which was very strange. Her brow furrowed and she laughed again, teeth flashing and eyes closed.

“I was shot.” Of course it was bothering her. “What do shadows care? Or are you some monster come to snatch me away? Either way, I don't believe in you.” She rolled her head away again, it was taking too much effort to stay awake, to speak to something that was not real.

A warm hand closed around her arm and her eyes flew open, unfocused and wild, rolling in her head. That was too real.

“I am more real than a little ghost flitting about my city.” His amusement only made her panic harder, her animal brain kicking in to over drive, steam rolling any logic she had left after medication. Her hand snapped out and she snarled, fingers aiming for eyes.

There were no calculations this time only a primal need to escape. She clawed at him, kicked wildly, none of her usual grace, but she managed to make one or two of her blows count. The warmth left her arm and she scrambled to her feet, canted wildly to the side, and aimed herself at the window and the freedom just beyond. A solid weight slammed her into the bed suddenly, knocking the wind from her lungs.

Shrieking she twisted, teeth bared as she kicked and raked at whatever presented itself to her. _Escape, escape, escape!_ She had to get out. The window, she had to get to the window.

“Stop!” The command rattled down to her bones, she almost obeyed, but she was she headstrong, willful.  _Run!_ She'd never listened to anything in her life.  _Escape_! He got her arms behind her, wrists pressed together until her bones shifted, his hand pressed against the back of her neck to keep her down.

Fucking drugs! Damn that nurse straight to hell! Damn herself for being weak and taking them. She seethed beneath him, but fell still and silent. Think, she needed to think.  _Get out!_ Take her time.  _Danger!  Get out!  Run run run run run!_ She felt fuzzy, bobble-headed after a fight, still dumb and far too slow.  She scrambled to gather what few wits she had left about herself.  Everything was taking too long, she couldn't process anything.

“There you are. I had wondered if I'd lost you for good.” That voice praised and she bristled, but remained limp and pliant. Smart, be smart, she was smart, she could make it. “I can practically hear the gears grinding in your head. You cannot flee this time little one. I have caught you.”

Shifting slightly she moved her foot behind his, slowly, deliberately. He wasn't gloating, but she could almost hear the smile in his voice. She didn't speak, didn't acknowledge him, instead she threw herself backwards, didn't let him step back to compensate, and landed heavily on his chest, making sure to dig her elbows in.

Rolling to her feet her body overcompensated and she fell into the wall, barely catching herself upright. A soft wheezing sound followed her, and she imagined having broken a rib or two, but the sound slowly reconciled itself into a laugh. Alexis could only stare as Bane chuckled on the floor, eyes crinkled in that way that almost made him human.

Nope.

“Too much.” She reached for her bag, her fingers slipping as blood dribbled down her arm.  She'd torn her stitches.  She felt a pinch in her thigh and whipped around to glare down at the offending limb.

The world narrowed to a fine point.

“Oh you son of a bi-”

 


End file.
